Changing Tides
by Summer Potter
Summary: Living a life of perpetual misery, Esme escapes from her abusive husband to find a life worth living. She has no idea that she'll find life in mortal death and love in the arms of an incredibly handsome doctor named Carlisle Cullen. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Changing Tides**

**Chapter 1**

AUTHORS NOTE: Firstly, this is my first Twilight fic. I got the background story from in the character bios. Disclaimer: All characters, base plot, twilight series are the property of Stephenie Myers. I've been in love with the books for a while now, and out of sheer interest in the other couples, I decided to write this one on Esme and Carlisle. I do not own the canon characters nor do I take credit for any affiliation with the "TWILIGHT" series.

*~*

_November 24, 1919_

_To my Dearest Emilia,_

_I apologize for the length of time that it has taken me to reply to your last letter but much has happened in the past few months. However I was cheered to hear that you and your husband are happily settling into married life and was delighted to hear that little Jonathan was born healthy and happy._

_With the war, my parents have kept a close watch over me and for a while I had moved back in with them. Father didn't approve of me living alone in Charles's home and so I obliged with nothing to object to. It gets quite lonely out here, and I so desperately wish I was closer to you. Remember our younger days when we'd spend all our time in Father's courtyard? _

_Charles returned two days before. I shall not disclose the details for fear of this falling into the wrong hands. He had my things packed up in a few hours and placed back in our bedroom, insisting that we resume our 'marriage.'_

_I very much hope that we can meet soon, dear Emilia. I want very much to meet the newest member of your family. Your happiness brings me much joy. I miss our schoolgirl days and tea at your father's estate. Such simpler times. I shall write you soon. Charles is calling me as I write._

_All my love, _

_Esme _

Esme set her pen down with a soft sigh, folded up her letter and set it inside the first drawer of the desk, deciding to send it tomorrow after Charles had left on an errand. He tended to be overly curious as to whom she communicated with. Lifting her skirt slightly, she headed toward the sitting room where her husband Charles sat reading the paper. He sat in his favourite arm chair by the fireplace, facing away from her.

As she entered the room, he raised his hand and absent-mindedly beckoned her forward, which always irritated Esme. He treated her like a mere servant most days... mind you, this was always better than how he treated her the rest of the time.

"Where have you been?" Charles Evenson asked her irritably, taking a long drag of a fat and foul-smelling cigar. She wrinkled her nose as he blew out a puff of smoke.

"Returning a letter to an old friend," Esme told him calmly and Charles made a noise of disinterest as he folded up his paper.

Charles Evenson was a thin man who was only a few inches taller than Esme. He had dark hair, cold blue eyes, a pointed nose and thin lips. He wasn't unattractive, but the air to which he carried himself was arrogant. When she had married him, Esme hadn't realized who he really was behind his mannered and aristocratic disdain.

"I have been thinking," Charles told her, finally turning to look her in the eyes. "I think it would be very beneficial for us if we invest in the Dawsons' property."

Esme said nothing, as she always did when he spoke to her about business dealings. Esme believed he told her for two reasons: one, so if it should come up in public, Esme did not seem ignorant to her husband's doings, and two, to hear himself speak. Charles took another drag of his cigar and blew the smoke out in a long, thin stream.

He motioned around the room suddenly, glaring at her. "In my absence, the house seems less... well-kept than I had expected, Esme."

"Well Father insisted I move in with him. You know this."

He smiled coldly at her but Esme knew her explanation would go unheard. Charles got to his feet and stepped closer to her. "I also spoke with Geoffrey from across the way this morning. He said something of interest."

"What was that?" Esme finally asked in a brave voice, cringing away slightly. She knew where this was leading. She spotted the empty bottle of brandy on the table beside his chair and the dirty glass and she could smell it on his breath.

"He claims that in my absence, you have spent a remarkable amount of time at the Cotler's estate." His eyes were accusing and Esme took a cautious step back. Charles grabbed her arm and tugged her closer, his eyes wild and face white.

"You-" Esme swallowed, attempting to swallow her fears. "You know that I enjoy spending time with their daughter Julia. She is only two years younger and-"

"And what of their son? Rumour has it he has taken a fancy to you. To _you_; a married woman; my _wife!_" His grip tightened and a sob escaped Esme. She could not bear it when he got like this.

"I did nothing!" She pleaded. "Nothing!"

Charles released his grip, looking furious. "Lies!" He began pacing in front of her. "I have been away for a year on German soil to protect my country, and I find out that my wife is the center of some god-forsaken rumours of infidelity."

Esme hugged herself, tears welling in her eyes. "Gossip, Charles, gossip! I have been with my parents for most of that year. I could not disgrace my family like this. Charles, please..."

His hand collided with her cheek and Esme slowly raised a hand to clutch her burning cheek, her eyes on the floor. Charles heaved a heavy sigh and dropped himself back down to his arm chair. He returned to his cigar and then blew the smoke in her direction.

"Little liar of wife. Go and powder your face, you silly girl. I'm having a guest and he is always pleased by your hospitality so you must go tidy up and return here instantly." He waved his hand at her to dismiss her and turned back to the fireplace.

Esme did not wait for him to say anything else. She wiped shakily at her eyes and rushed to their bedroom. With distance between then, she softly closed the door and allowed her tears to fall freely. It wasn't fair that she should be married to such a monster. Charles had beat her various times before this, usually in areas that could be concealed by the extravagant dresses he bought her. It was the perfect crime.

The worst was that no one believed her except for her best friend Emilia, who had known Charles as they had grown up. Charles had been the son of a family friend to both Emilia's and Esme's parents. While the girls saw him for a short-tempered drunk, Charles was able to keep up his mannered facade in public.

At picnics, he was always gracious and took her arm gently, introducing her to people of interest. He would kiss her hand and cheek and smile, but it was all an act. She had been married to him for two years now, and every passing day, things seem to worsen. Her family thought him an upstanding citizen with good money and a good name- the perfect husband. And so, in spite of her protesting, her parents had encouraged her to try and be a good wife Charles. Esme supposed her parents thought she was exaggerating the stories she told them.

Lowering herself to her vanity table, Esme touched her shaking fingers to the angry red mark on her right cheek and then began to straighten up her make-up. She could hear Charles moving downstairs, probably hiding his brandy and pulling out clean glasses and a new bottle for his guest. He would expect her downstairs any moment now to play her part in his sickly game.

Only a few minutes later, she had straightened herself up and the red mark had faded to a light pink. She had pulled her long caramel-coloured curls into an elegant clip that her mother had bought for her on her last birthday.

She stood from her vanity and offered her reflection her best attempt at a sweet smile, but it seemed tainted with sadness. She felt drained and miserable on the inside, and the more she was expected to maintain her smile, the more miserable she became.

"Ah, Mr. Sandley!" Charles was saying cheerfully downstairs. Esme hurried to the door and began to descend down the stairs. She pulled her lips into a gentle smile, lifted her skirts and placed a hand on the banister and she rejoined her husband as the perfect wife.

"And you have met my darling wife," Charles said as Esme reached the foot of the stairs. He wore a charming smile as he watched Mr. Sandley respectfully kiss his wife's hand.

"Of course," Mr. Sandley said with a smile, clueless to the falsity of this household. "Pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Evenson."

"And you, good sir," Esme replied sweetly. She motioned toward the sitting room. "Please," she said. The men nodded and walked together into the sitting room, leaving Esme to tow sadly behind. She glanced out the window, wishing she were running down the walkway and free of all of this.

She took up a seat in a small arm-chair a little ways from Charles and folded her hands gracefully, sitting up straight- ever the perfect actress.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The weeks past and soon Charles was returning to his job at the bank, leaving Esme at home more often. This was, of course, good news as solitude was better than being with her husband. She spent her time picking up the house, visiting her parents, sewing, or writing to old friends. So long as she was distracted, the days didn't seem so terrible.

And then, at the end of July something terrible happened. After weeks of feeling ill, her doctor informed her that she was pregnant.

Charles, of course, for several days flew into a rage, demanding to know that it was indeed _his_ child. He threw about all sorts of wild accusations about her infidelity while he'd been on the front lines. His rage disappeared when they visited both of their parents to deliver the good news. As far as the world could tell, he was thrilled for their baby and talked of spoiling their child and Esme.

It was the beginning of August and four months into her pregnancy that Esme decided she could no longer stand for Charles' abuse. She had begun to see things differently and now viewed the child growing inside her to be her only priority in life. Although she was depressed at her pregnancy, she knew that she loved this baby more than life itself, and that she couldn't possibly allow for her baby to be born here.

She made plans to escape, telling no one except for her second cousin Olivia, who lived in Milwaukee. Olivia and Esme had been close growing up, and Esme feared asking for help from anyone else. Olivia, outraged at the abuse she had suffered at the hands of Charles, readily agreed to help her. Olivia's husband George purchased Esme train tickets, and gave her instructions for her journey north.

The date for the escape was set for August 28th. Esme took extra care to ensure that her bag was packed and hidden in the front hall closet behind a storage bin. She had spent weeks stealing small sums of money from her husbands' safe and stashing it away. She had also planned to drug Charles to ensure she could get away safely. She was sure that if he caught her, he would beat her, it and Esme was sure her baby wouldn't survive.

On the evening of the 28th, Charles was sitting in his arm chair as he always did after his supper. She sat in the sitting room with him, as she sometimes did. Usually she avoided being in his company as he would continually ask her to fetch things or say cruel things between glasses of brandy. Today, however, was the obvious exception and she needed to act quickly.

Esme sat silently sewing a baby blanket as she waited for Charles to demand for her to fetch him another glass of brandy. She knew he would as she had poured some of his brandy down the drain earlier. It was already 7:30 and her train ticket was for 8:45...

Thankfully, minutes later, Charles poured the last of his brandy into the cup and drained it easily. He banged the empty bottle on the side table and turned to her.

"Make yourself useful," he said, brandishing his empty glass with his hand and without taking his eyes of his book. Esme obeyed, hoping she didn't seem eager as her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she mentally prepared herself.

She walked over to the liqueur cabinet and lifted out the drugged bottle of brandy with quivering fingers. She'd put in some crushed up sleeping pills earlier to ensure that he would pass out quickly. She uncorked the bottle and poured half a glass for Charles. She jammed the cork back on the bottle and bit her lip as she returned his glass to him.

What if it wasn't enough? What if he knew she had attempted to drug him? Her stomach was twisted into knots as she handed him the glass. He didn't look at her as he took it from her and set it down. Esme returned to her sewing, feeling sick to her stomach.

Minutes ticked by on the small clock on the mantle but Esme kept her eyes glued to the blanket. Finally, she noticed Charles going for the glass out of the corner of her eye. He raised it to his lips and drank, allowing Esme to exhale a little.

He set the glass down again and Esme meticulously continued to sew, her hands shaking as it tugged the thread insistently in and out of the material. It happened within minutes. His eyes fluttered and then he fell backwards against his chair, in a deep sleep. Esme waited for another minute or so before approaching her husband on shaking legs.

She tapped him, called his name and when he didn't respond, she turned on her heel and ran. She grabbed the bucket of water by the fireplace and doused the flames so the house wouldn't go up in flames while he slept. Esme then rushed to the front hall where she pulled on her coat, snatched her bag and then ran into the chilly night.

Her breathing and the sound of her shoes on the gravel were the only noises she heard as she rushed out to the stables. She quickly began to prepare the horse, attaching her bag to the saddle and then hoisting herself up, she urged her horse forward and out into the night.

The cool breeze felt wonderful on her face, drying the cold sweat that had begun to form on her forehead in her anxiety. She refused to look back at the little house and the life she was leaving behind. Digging her heels into the horse, she urged it faster to the train station.

It was like a bubble of hope had grown in her chest and expanded. She and her baby were free of her tyrant of a husband. She just hoped she could get far away from him for long enough for Charles to give up.

The train station was about a twenty minute ride into town. There was still several people around town at this time, so she kept her head low. She approached a young boy who was clearly poor and tapped him on the shoulder.

"I will pay you for the trouble of returning my horse, young man" She said sweetly, bending to his level.

The boy, covered in dirt and in ragged clothes looked up at her and nodded. "Sure, miss," he replied politely.

Esme smiled at him and dug into her purse to retrieve a fair sum to give to the boy. She pressed it into his hand, gave the boy her address and just told him to tie the animal up in the stable. The boy nodded and departed immediately after mounting the horse with a little help from Esme.

Satisfied that the horse would be returned to Charles, she continued onto the station. An elderly gentleman held the door for her and she thanked him, keeping her eyes lowered. She did not want any associates of her husband to recognize her while she made her escape. She checked the train schedule and then sat with her bag in a chair at the far end of the room. She placed a hand on the slight baby bump that had begun to develop and sighed.

_Don't worry, baby_, she thought sadly. _I'll get us there safely_. Glancing at her pocket watch, she was pleased to realize she would only have to wait another ten minutes at the station before boarding. The station was crowded, but she felt that the less amount of time she spent in this god forsaken town the better.

Charles would probably only be unconscious for an hour, if that, and so it was critical that she had departed by then. She thanked God that her train was running on time. Looking around the station, she didn't recognize anyone.

_Good_, she thought thankfully. Luck hadn't been in her favour since she'd met Charles. It was strange to think that she was finally allowed such a thing.

It wasn't long before Esme was sitting in the window seat of the train, watching the station disappear behind her. She relaxed in her seat, so happy that she felt she could cry. Charles would no longer lay another hand on her ever again. She was free to live her life and make her own decisions. She would no longer have to live in fear ever again. Most importantly to her, her baby could grow up safely.

As the train picked up its speed, clattering along the wood tracks as it pulled away from her town, Esme pulled out a small notepad and a pen, figuring she would owe her parents at least an explanation. She felt terrible for leaving like this, without a word to her friends and family, but it was necessary. If Charles found her, she shuddered to think of what he would do.

_Dear Mother and Father, _

_I am very sorry for all of this, but I cannot bear to live in a place where I fear for myself every day. I have tried to explain to you on numerous occasions that Charles is not the man he appears to be, and I can no longer obey your wishes to take it in stride. _

_I have left in hopes of living a better life than the one I have left behind. I intend to raise the baby away from Charles so that he or she has the chance to grow up in a loving home. _

_I love you both and I hope you can forgive me one day. _

_All my love,_

_Esme_

She sighed and read and re-read her short note, deciding it would have to do. She couldn't give them any more information than this. Perhaps in a few months time, she would send another letter, just so that they knew she was alright.

Two men in their business suits paused by her seat, eyeing her curiously and smiling. Esme supposed this did look odd. The war had just ended and security measures were quickly disappearing, but to see an unescorted lady in the evening travelling by herself must seem strange, if not dangerous.

Esme kept her eyes glued to the letter until they passed. She then folded it up carefully and stored it in her bag until she could mail it away.

Her eyes ached in exhaustion but she didn't dare sleep yet. In two hours, the strange would reach Indianapolis where George had paid for a coach and a hotel room. She wouldn't reach Milwaukee for another few days.

Staring out of the train's window, Esme began to imagine that her life hadn't turned out to be so complicated. She was ecstatic about being a mother and starting a family, but she had known since her father encouraged her to marry Charles that he wasn't _hers_. She deeply believed in the stories she heard from some of her friends who had claimed to have met the perfect man, the man of their dreams. Esme had never been able to tell such stories.

Surely she deserved happiness too?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The rain poured heavily outside as Carlisle turned from the window and let the blinds fall. His current patient Dorothy Windler demanded to see the weather outside once every four hours, and while most doctors now refused her orders, Carlisle always indulged her.

Poor forty-one year-old Dorothy was suffering from paranoid schizophrenia and had recently fallen down her porch steps and broken her leg. Usually Carlisle only saw her in the psychology wing of the hospital when her irritable brother brought her in for routine shock therapy, but every so often, her condition got the better of her and she wound up hurt.

"How is your leg today, Dorothy?" Carlisle asked, turning back to her with a warm smile.

Dorothy patted her cast sadly. "It pains me, good doctor, sir," she said in a simpering tone, patting her cast in what would be a seductive way. Carlisle kept a straight face as he always did when Dorothy became a little flirtacious with him. God forbid she took on the "delusion" of Carlisle as some sort of monster out to get her.

"Any more or less than it did yesterday? You have been keeping off and not sneaking out to peak out the waiting room window?"

Dorothy nodded hurriedly. "Cross my heart, I have, sir. And no, still the same pain."

Carlisle made a note on her chart, smiled at her again and walked around to pat her shoulder before he left. "Well, you've got a good attitude about it, so hopefully the healing goes quickly. Is there anything I can have the nurse bring you before I go?"

She shook her head, suddenly looking irritated. "I don't like that Brenda-woman, Doctor." That Brenda-woman was the nurse who every day forced Dorothy to take her medicine. Complaining about Brenda was something she did on an hourly basis. "Please do not send her to me."

"I believe she's off for the night," he told her easily.

Dorothy nodded and let out a sigh of relief. "Goodnight then, Doctor Cullen." She smiled at him again in that over-the-top way.

Carlisle raised a hand in farewell and left Miss Windler. He handed the attending nurse her chart and started toward the doctors' lounge. His shift was finally over, and Carlisle was starting to get itchy to leave. His throat had burned slightly for a few days now, and he knew that he couldn't possibly put off his hunting trip any longer.

He passed several doctors and nurses, greeting them each politely as he passed. Most of the younger nurses would smile and wave, always taken by his appearance. Carlisle hardly noticed the attention women tended to give him anymore. After over two hundred and fifty years, he had grown blind to their advances. The women became almost invisible to him since he had found Edward too, who found it amusing to voice their inappropriate thoughts toward either of them.

He collected his things, signed off on his shift and left through the front doors of the hospital with his black umbrella. His Ford was parked in the staff parking lot to the right of the emergency entrance and he quickly climbed in and started it up. He loved this car, it was one of the newer models, which unfortunately, drew more attention to him than he wanted to receive.

As he drove through the rain, having to go a lot slower owing to the traffic and the weather, Carlisle pondered his day off tomorrow. Perhaps Edward would be interested in hunting with him? Not that he minded hunting alone, but still... it was nice to have Edward around. He'd spent way too many years alone now.

The drive home took nearly an hour, and the rain was coming down harder as he parked, re-opened his umbrella and headed briskly up the short pathway to the house that he and Edward lived in. It was a fair-sized cottage in the countryside, barricaded by trees and shrubbery. The house itself was two floors plus a basement, and made of red-brick.

He opened the door and set his umbrella on the shoe mat and removed his jacket. He could hear Edward upstairs in one of the rooms, probably working on some project or other. If Edward didn't keep himself busy he tended to hover as if he didn't know how to occupy himself. Since he had decided he wanted to take a year off from school, he was hovering more than usual.

Moving toward the washroom, Carlisle methodically began to wash his hands; a practice he did before and after work each day. It wasn't that human illnesses or diseases could affect him, but working in a hospital called for good hygiene, whether you were immortal or not.

As he dried his hands, he watched his reflection in the mirror. He was tall, with short blonde hair and a strong jaw. His eyes were currently a cold black, which reminded him of his need to hunt. He supposed he could go out into the rain, but he didn't fancy the idea of dragging animals from their dens. It was an extra effort and cruel in the process.

Since Carlisle Cullen had become a vampire in 1663, he had fed off the blood of animals. He had despised what he was for a very long time, forced into social isolation out of fear of what he might do to another human. It had taken him well over a hundred years to be comfortable around others. He no longer felt the desire to bite anyone, which was good, considering his daily exposure to human blood. Being a doctor made him feel like he had beaten his crippling vampirism.

He had been alone for a very long time until he found Edward dying in a hospital with his mother. Both were in the final vicious stages of Spanish influenza, and this was the first time he had ever truly considering biting another. Somehow, Edward's mother had figured out what he was, and in her final moments, begged him to save her son. Carlisle hadn't been convinced, but the desperation of his loneliness won over and he saved Edward Cullen.

Edward, too, had struggled with his new-found life and often Carlisle worried that Edward despised him for it. Technically, the boy was frozen at seventeen; caught at an age of adolescent broodiness and angst, so Carlisle tended to dismiss Edward's sometimes less than subtle behaviour toward him.

Carlisle left the washroom and headed for his study which he intended to tidy. He had been doing a lot of research in the practice of surgery lately, which was purely out of interest. He had just begun to return books to his shelves when Edward appeared in the doorway.

He was a tall boy with dark eyes and bronze hair; Edward folded his arms and watched Carlisle with a bored expression.

"How was your day?" Edward asked conversationally.

Carlisle carefully slid the books back into their alphabetical listing. "Nothing too traumatic, thankfully," Carlisle replied with a small smile. "What have you been up to?"

"I purchased a piano today," Edward told him with nonchalance. "A really nice one."

"Bored of the violin?" Carlisle asked him teasingly, to which Edward smiled slightly with a shrug.

"Bach frustrates me."

"Have you hunted lately?" Carlisle asked suddenly, ceasing his cleaning.

Edward shook his head no. "Do you wish to go soon?"

"Yes, tomorrow, if you'd like to join me. I'd forgotten how long it has been since I went."

"Lucky for the hospital you have extraordinary control," Edward mocked lightly, but Carlisle never found it funny. Edward had been turned in 1918- only two years ago ago. He had adjusted eventually to the practice of only drinking the blood of animals, but his self-control was no where near to that of Carlisle's. Since being turned, he'd killed three people, his control snapping.

"Have you thought anymore of which University you think you will try next year?" Carlisle asked, eager to change the subject again.

Edward's eyes narrowed but he smiled funnily. "I won't break any of your rules, Carlisle. You know I never meant to."

Carlisle sighed and resumed cleaning his study. "I apologize for my thoughts," he said calmly. Edward's mind-reading gifts were a hassle.

"You think about it, worry over it," Edward said dully, his hands in his pockets. "I'm trying, you know that."

"Your mind-reading abilities are becoming quite tiresome," Carlisle said with a smile. "It is interesting that you are becoming more attuned to others' thoughts."

"We are alone a lot," Edward explained with a shrug. "I feel attuned to your thoughts the most. The more I go into town, the easier it becomes to hear more."

Alone, Carlisle thought sadly. Through all the good work at the hospital and how hard he tried to keep them both busy, being alone was the one thing that had troubled him in all of his immortal years. It pained him sometimes, to find other vampires in passing and see them happily attached to a life mate or partner. He had come to think of Edward as his son, and he wished that he would be able to find someone one day. He hoped that it would end Edward's inner torment.

As lonely as he was, he had to put his son first. If he didn't have Edward, he didn't know where he would be.

_Alone_, the word rang in his head again and he forced it away, realizing that Edward was watching him with an unreadable expression on his perfect face.

_Not forever_, he added hastily in his thoughts, more for Edward's sake than his own. He glanced at his son who had been fidgeting with a small figurine on his shelf. Without looking at Carlisle, he set it down and left the room without a word.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

October came quickly and the temperature outside was quickly declining as the trees became orange and red and a cool breeze set in. Esme was living with Olivia, her second cousin on her mother's side, and her husband George. She was presently five months pregnant and working as a school teacher at a small private school in town, just like she'd always wanted to do.

She had been given a small guest room and tried her best to help out around the house as best she could. With her baby growing and a job to occupy her, Esme finally felt happy for the first time in many months.

One afternoon at lunch, her luck quickly changed when Olivia frantically ran into the kitchen clutching a piece of paper while George and Esme had just sat down to lunch. Olivia clutched at her chest, having run all the way from down the lane, looking quite frightened.

"Esme," she cried out breathlessly, holding out the letter to her cousin.

Esme stared at her in shock until Olivia cleared her throat and explained quickly. "Your father... he's found you."

Esme felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at Olivia, wishing this was just some cruel joke. George gently took the letter from his wife and read it over. He then passed it to Esme, murmuring his sympathies. The lunch sat forgotten on the table.

Esme read the short letter with shaking fingers, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

_Esme,_

_It's taken me months of searching for you, but I know you're staying with Olivia and George. Charles has been facing public humiliation for too long because of your absence. He misses you and asked me to send this letter with the assumption you might listen to myself rather than your husband. This is tragic, Esme, but fixable. We can fix it if you come home._

_By the time you receive this letter, I should in town shortly to collect you. Please have your things packed._

_-Your Father_

Esme began to cry as she stared at the scrawl of her father, knowing his hurried cursive meant he was angry and in a rush. Olivia rushed over to her, bent down and threw her arms around her.

"Oh, Esme, please don't cry!" Olivia whispered sadly.

George drained his tea and reached over to touch Esme's hand reassuringly. "Come, Esme. Go and pack your things."

Esme and Olivia gaped at George, who then quickly added, "No, not for your father. We'll help you to leave."

"You will?" Esme asked in a soft voice.

George nodded and Olivia squeezed her cousin's shoulders.

Esme offered him a warm smile, got slowly to her feet. "Thank you- to you both, for everything."

"Go, go." George said, waving her off. He began to quickly shovel food in his mouth for the journey.

Esme hurried from the room feeling sick and drained, yet still determined to escape from what she was running from. Olivia followed her soon after to help her pack all of her things. Esme rubbed her hand against her rounded stomach, willing herself not to get overwhelmed. She _would_ escape; there was no way she would be going back to Charles.

It took twenty minutes to collect her bags at the front door. George readied the coach outside and helped Esme and Olivia inside. Esme's eyes filled with tears as she hung her head and watched the house disappear behind them. Olivia put her arm around her cousin and offered her a reassuring smile.

"It's all right. He won't find you. Just think of your baby, now."

"Where are we going?" Esme asked, putting on her bravest face. Olivia looked just as curious as to their location and repeated it louder for George to hear.

"Wisconsin!" George replied loudly. The carriage bumped along down the road, heading for the town's border.

"Why Wisconsin?" Olivia asked confusedly, rubbing Esme's arm absent-mindedly. "It's hours and hours from here, George."

"I've got a client up there. He owes me a favour. We'll stop as necessary. Wisconsin is far enough from here and from Esme's family."

Esme watched the scenery as passed them by. It would have been a beautiful scenic trip if Esme didn't feel as if she was being ripped to pieces on the inside. After a little while, she watched with sad eyes as Olivia and George began to talk; their conversation so easy. George would laugh at something Olivia would say, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her. It was like he truly and honestly loved Olivia.

_Why can't I have that?_ Esme thought bitterly. _Why can't I have my happy ending?_

She glanced down at her stomach, realizing that she would have it. Just not yet... Her baby would be born, and they would have each other. A happy family... and nothing else would ever matter.

*~*

It took George approximately two days to get to Ashland after various stops for food and sleep, but they arrived at the end of the second day weary and exhausted from their spontaneous trip. George booked a room at a local hotel under his name and the three travellers went to rest for the night.

They ate a quiet dinner at the small restaurant in the lobby of the hotel and returned to the room to discuss the next steps.

"I won't run anymore," Esme told them after a long pause in the idle chatter they'd held up for several minutes once the door to their room was closed. She slowly lowered herself onto her own bed and Olivia paused as she removed her hair pins, looking a little surprised.

Olivia opened her mouth to say something but Esme shook her head firmly. "I'll stay here. No one knows where I am now. When my father arrives, you two can pretend you've come back from a trip and that was why you left me stay." Her lie was beginning to even register as believable in her own exhausted mind and it gave her strength. "Tell my father you wouldn't have support my staying so long. Lie to him and say that I had promised you to only make use of your house for a few days."

George and Olivia looked at each other, both hesitant to agree to the story but Esme looked at them beseechingly. "Please," she said anxiously. "I know it's a lot to ask, after all you've done. But you can't give my father reason to think you know where I am. He'll go to my husband and trust me in that if Charles gets involved himself, you'll never hear the end of it."

"We'll do whatever you ask," Olivia said sadly at last. "We'll tell your story. I just wonder if we should take a train up one more city?"

George shrugged as he removed his neck tie. "Dear, if Esme thinks she's comfortable here, it's best she stays."

Esme smiled at them. "Thank you. So very much... I don't know what I would have done without the two of you."

"What will you do now?" George asked curiously, settling onto his and Olivia's bed.

Esme hesitated, considering the question. "There are plenty of widows from the war," she said slowly. "It wouldn't be hard to fit in; no one would question me."

"That is true." George seemed a little more convinced at her plan and unbuttoned his suit jacket, sliding it off and placing it neatly at the foot of the bed. "You'll need to find a place to live and a job," he reminded her gently.

Esme thought back to the job she'd left behind, realizing the school year had already started in Ashland as well. "Hopefully a school will take me on as a substitute of sorts. I still have money from Charles."

"And a place to live?" Olivia pressed, still looking slightly worried.

Esme shrugged. "I shall have to look. Room and board shouldn't be too complicated to find. I'm sure that not many people would turn down a pregnant war widow."

George and Olivia nodded their agreement.

"It's settled then, Olivia, you needn't fret." He smiled at Esme and nodded confidently. "She'll be just fine on her own."

Olivia looked as if she didn't believe Esme or George, but she nodded her agreement, her mouth in a tight line. Esme excused herself to take a bath, desperately feeling the need for time alone to her thoughts and to clean herself up after the journey. Not long after she'd shut the door, she overheard Olivia worrying to George again, but she didn't want to hear it.

Esme closed her eyes, willing herself to forget the fears she shared with Olivia and turned the water on, droning her cousin out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The next day George and Olivia departed on their way back to Milwaukee, but not before George left Esme with an extra sum of money just in case. They exchanged hugs, final goodbyes and good lucks to each other before Olivia and George climbed into the coach and disappeared down the dirt path.

Esme did not return to the hotel, and instead set off in search of information. She wanted to first find the school house. It was Tuesday, so she assumed she'd be able to speak to the head master directly about the possibility of employment as a substitute. It wouldn't be a constant income, but at least it would be something to support herself until the baby was born and she could work full-time.

After receiving directions from a kind elderly man, Esme had located the school within the hour. It was a small building with a wide-set property in front and behind. Small children were playing under the supervision of a bearded young man as she passed.

Esme smiled down at the children's happy faces, her maternal instincts tugging at her heart strings. She brushed her fingers against her own baby affectionately, eager to watch her child run and play about so carefree and happy.

The head master of the school sat in his office at the front of the building, through a set of doors. He was a short man in his forties with brown eyes that seemed a bit too close together. On his nose sat a pair of spectacles and his nose seemed oddly shaped, as if it had been broken many years ago. He looked up at Esme with a frown on his face, pausing in the middle of reading some sort of document.

"May I help you, ma'am?" His articulate voice asked curiously.

Esme nodded. "My name is Esme Platt and I recently moved into town. I was wondering, sir, if you perhaps had any job openings? Perhaps as a substitute?"

He stared at the beautiful brunette in front of him with mild surprise. With a small jolt, he got to his feet and extended his hand, looking a little flustered.

"I'm Henry Dalaver, head master of Kinsden Elementary, Miss Platt. Please, have a seat."

Esme nodded and took a seat. "I apologize for my sudden arrival. I just arrived into town the day before. My husband- my husband's body was just recently returned from Germany." In truth, it wasn't a complete lie.

Henry appeared startled and his eyes moved from her face to her pregnant belly. "You are a widower?"

Esme nodded, keeping a calm expression. "You see why I would come to you after the start of term."

Henry regarded her for another long moment, still looking surprised. Then he waved it away and instead asked, "What are your credentials?" 

Having just gone through this months before, Esme produced her file of credentials, pleased that she had remembered to pack it with her and handed it to Henry Delaver. He read them over in silence as Esme looked around his orderly office with vague curiousity.

"You have taught before?" Esme nodded, her face darkening. "In my previous place of residence. My husband-" she paused, partly to prepare herself for the lie and partly for dramatic effect. "I was recently informed passed away in the war. I couldn't bear to stay..."

Henry coloured slightly, almost looking as if he was sorry he asked. He nodded and murmured in sympathy, his eyes admiring her beautiful face. He continued to read over her file and then closed it with a polite smile.

"Well, lucky for you I am in desperate need of a full-time teacher." He ran a hand through his thinning hair distractedly. "One of the teachers has fallen very ill as of late. Some days he feels just well enough to make it through a school day and others, not. I have been assigning substitutes to his classes, but I feel it in the interest of the children's education to provide stability."

He smiled at her. "I would be very relieved if you could resume his post, Miss Platt."

Esme smiled back. "I would be very relieved if I had such luck," she admitted with a small laugh.

Henry seemed pleased and he reached out to shake her hand again. Henry then told her that she would start tomorrow morning. Esme thanked him whole-heartedly and went on her next search for a place to live.

*~*

Over the next few weeks, Esme found her life to follow a more natural pattern. She paid rent to a couple who had a spare room in their house which was approximately twenty-five minutes from the school and they allowed Esme her own bathroom.

She told her story to anyone who would listen and few pressed her for details. Anyone who asked her about her husband was more for the point of sympathizing with her. They'd ask how long she'd been married and then murmured their best wishes for Esme and Charles's baby.

Now that she had a place to live, income, and was far from her old life, Esme felt happier. She enjoyed teaching and the teaching staff who worked with her. It was nice to experience freedom and friendship, and while she did miss her family, she knew that soon she'd have her own family with her son or daughter. In the evenings, she felt the loneliest and would often read books aloud to her baby and dwelled on the hope that her child would bring to her.

Every night she thanked God for the blessing of the baby who kept her life and soul intact while she tried to escape her tyrant of a husband. She felt as if life was going back to the simpler times when she was a young woman, free of Charles and free of expectations. There was a point in her life when she was sixteen that she fantasized her father would push for a young doctor to marry her.

It wasn't exactly a pleasant memory as it was the time that she fell climbing a tree and broke her femur. The doctor who had come was an extremely handsome blonde man with gentle, cool hands and a smile that made her forget the pain. Esme's friends had teased her for weeks about her schoolgirl crush on the impossibly handsome doctor.

Unfortunately, the man had shown no interest in her outside of the doctor-patient relationship and mentioned in passing he was being transferred elsewhere. For Esme, the doctor was the first and last man she'd shown interest in as Charles began to court her shortly afterward. At this point, however, he was a polite and friendly gentleman and while Esme didn't show him the same interest she felt for the doctor, she was not opposed to Charles either.

And yet still today, every so often she'd dream of the handsome blonde man who'd treated her kindly and with respect. It was too bad that he'd moved away...

*~*

As the winters months brought more snow and ice and the temperature dropped at a steady pace, Esme found she spent all her time either in her quarters of the house or at school. By Christmas, she was seven months pregnant and beginning to feel the strain of the final months of pregnancy. Still, having young minds to keep her spirits up took her mind off the back pain and some of the lower moods she found herself slipping into from time to time.

The couple she stayed with were Thomas and Maria and they had a young son named Frederic who was merely four. He loved to sit with Esme by the fireplace and listen to her read books or pepper her with questions about her baby. Frederic seemed to be excitedly awaiting the birth of the child as his own little brother, which Esme and Maria both thought endearing.

On Christmas morning, Esme was woken by Frederic's shouts of excitement as he woke his parents early in the morning to open his gifts. Maria, a sweet woman with thick dark curls, apologized profusely for her son's excitement. Esme only smiled and laughed, admitting she was excited for a time when her own baby would wake her up early in the morning.

Frederic's bed clothes were askew and his hair a tangled mess of curls as he raced around the living room, peeking around the small pile of gifts under the tree with an excited grin on his little face. He beamed up at his parents and asked to open his gifts pleadingly.

"Alright, son," Thomas finally allowed, once the adults were seated in front of a warming fire.

Esme smiled, hands folded over her large tummy and watched Frederic tear off the wrappings of his gifts. Once all of his toys were opened, Thomas had Frederic distribute the remaining gifts. Frederic skipped over to his parents, handing them each two boxes and then over to Esme with a box and a wrapped piece of card.

Esme opened the card first at Frederic's excited request. Inside was a large picture he had drawn of Esme and his family beside their house with a rainbow and the sun in the sky. He beamed as he pointed out he had spelled everyone's names right and he had put in a bright red arrow that pointed to a circle drawn over Esme's stomach. Just beside that, he had scrawled BABY BROTHER in bright blue.

Feeling her eyes well with tears, she hugged the little boy. "Thank you very much!"

"Do you love it?" He asked, practically bouncing up and down.

"I do. How about later we will find a spot in my room to hang it."

Frederic agreed excitedly and he and Esme watched his parents unwrap their gifts from each other and from Esme.

With the fire crackling and a small but pretty gold necklace from Thomas and Maria beside her and the picture from Frederic in her hands, Esme felt extremely at peace with her life. She hadn't even know these people for more than a couple of months and she already felt like she had a family who loved her. Later, when she hung the picture up in the room, she whispered her thanks to whoever was watching over her that somewhere in the possible, the impossible had happened.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_It is a great tragedy when a day you come to expect to be the best moment of your life turns out to be your worst. _

On March 1st, Esme Platt went into labour around seven in the morning. Maria quickly told a distraught Frederic to stay in his room and joined Esme in her room with a clean towels, bidding Thomas to quickly boil some water and to summon the doctor. Though Esme was anxious and worried for the birth, Maria seemed excited, and this calmed her a great deal.

The sun was barely rising as the pain intensified. Esme fought contraction after contraction, glimpsing the light at the end of the tunnel- the birth of her child- after many long months of waiting. The doctor arrived approximately an hour into contractions along with a midwife. As they waited through the many hours of labour, Maria braided Esme's hair back and comforted her, holding her hand when contractions took hold of her and offered her reassurance that she too went through it, and Esme would forget it all when she held her little baby.

Ten hours later, Esme was encouraged to push and after a relatively easy birth, the doctor left after a quick exam of the child, leaving the midwife to complete her duties. Esme sobbed with happy relief with a tiny red-faced baby boy was handed to her in a woollen white blanket.

Maria rushed out to tell her son and husband the good news, leaving Esme alone with her baby son for a little while. Esme gave another soft, happy cry when the baby boy began to whimper and then cry, peeking up at her with large blue eyes. Esme's heart felt as if it would snap under all the love and happiness she felt for the small baby boy in her arms.

"Hi, handsome," Esme greeted him adoringly. She gently stroked his pudgy cheek with her finger, admiring his face. "I've been waiting for you, baby boy." He continued to fuss softly, but Esme just rocked him, memorizing his face with the adoring eyes of a mother.

After nursing him, Maria, Thomas and Frederic were allowed in to greet the newest member of their household. Frederic produced another drawn picture, this time of him standing beside a tiny stick figure that he exclaimed was the baby before anyone could ask.

"Whatcha going to call him?" Frederic asked in a loud whisper, peering down at this face. "He's Red. You should call him Red."

All the adults laughed appreciatively but Esme shook her head, smiling at Frederic. "I think I'll call him Nicholas."

Frederic seemed to mull this over before grinning up at Esme and nodding. "I think it's a good name Auntie Esme." Lately, he'd been calling her that and Esme thought it was too sweet to correct it.

"Fine name," praised Thomas.

Maria smiled and leaned into her husband's embrace and put one hand on her own son's shoulder. "I agree. It suits him."

Little Nicholas yawned and whimpered again, but snuggled against his mother in his blankets and his eyelids slid closed. Esme couldn't take her eyes off of him, still unwilling to believe that she finally, at last had her family.

"Come Frederic. Little Nicholas needs his rest."

Frederic nodded seriously. "Okay." He waved at the baby in the blankets. "Bye Nicholas!" And he scampered off with Thomas behind him to get him washed up for school that day.

Maria smiled at Esme and leaned over awkwardly to hug her friend, careful of the baby in her arms. "Congratulations. He really is beautiful."

Appreciation and love shone in Esme's eyes. "Thank you," Esme whispered, smiling down at the baby in her arms. "For everything. I don't know what I would have done without you and Thomas."

*~*

It took less than twenty-four hours for it to happen. But Esme woke in the middle of the night to hear baby's cries, broken up by soft coughs. Concerned, she rocked him, gently patting his back. The coughing would stop and then continue. He threw up once or twice, and in the morning, Esme called the doctor in a panic. How had he gotten sick? He hadn't been outside and there was no draft in her room.

The same man who had arrived to help with the delivery arrived to find Esme and Maria sitting on the bed worriedly watching the small boy cough and cry. He examined him for what felt like ages to Esme, listening to his chest and checking his neck, breathing and pulse. At last, he removed his stethoscope with a sigh.

"I believe he's got an infection of the lungs. I'm very sorry."

Maria and Esme stared at the doctor in horror. Esme was too shocked and terrified to say anything. She was wrapping her baby up again in the warm blankets and holding him close.

Maria asked what Esme was thinking. "What does this mean for Nicholas? He'll get over it, won't he?"

The doctor hesitated. "It is difficult to say. He may... it's a terrible month for a birth. The home is cold; for an infant it's incredibly dangerous. We aren't sure of the causes but infants this young are just so incredibly vulnerable to surrounding illnesses and bacteria."

"So what can we do?" Esme finally managed to ask in a frightened voice, staring at her baby boy who had ceased his coughing for now.

The doctor listed off a variety of remedies they could try, but because he was barely a day old, he advised caution. Before he left, he patted Esme on the arm, truly looking sorry.

"I am very sorry for this news. I know it is hard to hear. It is in my duty, however, to let you know... there is a possibility he will not make it through this. You should prepare yourself and know that this is not your fault."

He gave the women one last apologetic look and said goodbye. Esme's tears fell freely.

*~*

What happened next would forever be burned into her mind. Two days later she woke to find her baby still in his blankets, his face grey and lifeless. Esme flew into a terrified panic, screaming out for Maria and Thomas in the morning. Frederic sat sobbing in the doorway when the doctor finally came and his mother and father hugged the shaking, sobbing Esme. After much screaming and resistance, the doctor left, leaving everyone sobbing.

Esme refused to let little Nicholas go, clutching him desperately and crying his name out. After much screaming, suddenly, she collapsed onto the bed, baby securely in arms. It was at this point that Maria begged her husband to take the lifeless tiny body from Esme's arms elsewhere. Thomas did so, his face pale and tear-stricken, leaving his wife to tend to Esme.

It was a terrible day the day that Esme lost her son; the only family she had left in the world. But to Esme, it was like she was living a terrible nightmare and nothing seemed real. Breathing was difficult and every time she closed her eyes, she wished desperately she could wake up.

For days, she cried, starving herself and suffering insomnia. Maria was left clueless as to how to help, so in the end, she left her to deal with her pain. But for Esme, the pain was an enveloping darkness to which she knew there was no escape. Nicholas had been the only light of hope in her life- and he was gone.

Every breath she took felt like a waste. She sat in her room, wishing to close her eyes and never open them again but to close her eyes was to relive the horror. Sunlight made her nauseous and the dark terrified her. There was no escape for a lost soul, if she even had one anymore. All she felt inside was emptiness

A week went by, and still, Esme felt no will in life. She didn't care if Charles were to find her; she actually felt some sort of relief in this idea; perhaps he would fulfill his threats and end her life for her betrayal. Esme would gladly take this fate; it would be better than living like this.

At the end of the second week, having barely slept, Esme carefully and silently boxed up her things. She dressed herself in a pale blue dress and left her hair down around her pale, thin face. She found a sheet of paper and made a note to Maria and Thomas.

_To my only friends-_

_I am so very sorry for the tragedy I have imposed upon your lives. I wished you no part in my misery. I love you both for the kindness and love you have shown me in these few months that we have known each other._

_Please understand I had no choice. I have no life without my baby now. I have left much behind and yet I have nothing in my old life when I was married. _

_I gave up because I have nothing left. I am sorry, though I know there is nothing that I can say to make my decision right at all. There is nothing you could have done. It is just time for it come to an end. If I am not meant to have happiness in life than my life is worthless. _

_I love you both. I am so very sorry._

_-Esme_

Tears did not well in her eyes as she left the note on her bed and put on her shoes with steady hands. She left her room in soft, padded steps like a ghost floating down a hall. She glanced in Frederic's room to see his small sleeping form and then turned away before she could wake him to apologize to him personally. She hoped that her decision would not ruin the little boy- he never deserved that.

The house was silent, and it was dark and chilly outside when she left. She quietly closed the door and started down the path without looking back. The wind chilled her to the bone but she didn't care- it didn't matter and nothing did.

Esme walked lifelessly without thinking to the edge of town, where she knew the town wound down a steep hill to the road that led the traveller farther north. Esme made a sharp turn off the path and up to the rocky cliffs that dropped off into the water below. The rocks were wet as she stepped over them to the edge where she could peer down into the icy waters that smashed violently against the cliff's base.

No one saw her walk there, and no one would see her do this, and this was a small comfort. She had hurt too many people already; leaving a scar on their lives forever. Her long hair whipped in the chill night air and she took a deep breath in, her empty eyes observing the promising waters below. She felt at peace here. The rocks below her feet were sharp and uncomfortable even under her shoes, but the pain was nothing.

She closed her eyes, thinking of her family; of Olivia and George, of Maria and Thomas and Frederic, and of the face of the baby boy who'd passed away in the middle of the night in her arms. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, smiling slightly as she thought of Nicholas.

And with her baby son the last thing on her mind, Esme Platt threw herself off the cliff.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Carlisle tossed his latex gloves in the trash bin and handed the nurse behind the reception desk a completed chart and full-work up of his last patient of the day. She smiled sweetly up at him and murmured thanks. Carlisle tried not to be bothered by the fact that the nurses only thanked him and any other attractive physician for giving them paperwork to file.

"Could you sign me out Elizabeth?" Carlisle asked as he washed his hands in the small sink by the wall. "I've got some extra release papers to complete before I go home for the night."

The nurse flushed pink, phone in hand, looking apologetic. "Actually, Dr. Cullen. A call just came through and you're requested in emergency."

Carlisle raised his eyebrows. Carlisle didn't spend a lot of time working emergency anymore. "Where is doctor Francels?"

"Still in surgery, I'm afraid. You're the only available doctor right now."

Carlisle nodded, turning off the sink and dried his hands. He grabbed a fresh pair of gloves and and turned to head toward the emergency wing. The waiting room was full of patients as usual, but he couldn't see where he as being called to. He hadn't taken another three steps before a nurse was rushing toward him, her face grim.

"Over here, doctor."

The nurse led him back to the emergency reception room to a closed curtain. She pulled back the curtain enough to let them both pass through and then let it fall.

"What do we have here?" Carlisle asked, noting the unconscious and extremely battered woman on the stretcher. He frowned at her, noticing she was soaking wet and droplets were falling off her hair and onto the stretcher and floor.

"Suicide patient," one of the nurses told him sadly. "We just needed you to sign her off."

Carlisle could hear the woman's soft heart beat, but he placed his fingers against her neck anyway, feeling her weak and shallow pulse beneath his finger tips. He checked her other vitals quickly and then gently ran his hands across her skull and back of her neck.

"Fractured skull, C-spine injury, probable hemorraging," Carlisle muttered more to himself than the nurses, making a mental list that he'd later recall perfectly. He continued with his search, gently lifting or tearing of the clothes she wore.

"You know they won't take her," the second nurse said softly, watching Dr. Cullen with sad eyes. "Her injuries won't heal and we're over-crowded and under-staffed."

Carlisle knew what they were saying was true, and it was incredibly sad that this was how society had been for centuries. Hospital beds had to be reserved for people who truly needed them and who had a chance at life.

Carlisle's eyes moved up to her bruised face and found himself shocked that he recognized it. His perfect memory snapped back several years earlier to a memory of this young woman in her backyard, two hands bracing her leg and yet looking quite calm. His memory skipped and she was laughing at something he said, her eyes full of light and youth. Esme Platt.

"Dr. Cullen we need to move her," the first nurse prompted, interrupting his thoughts. "We just needed you to pronounce her."

Carlisle nodded mutely, but his mind was back on the beautiful young girl he'd known so many years ago. Would such a happy young girl really try to kill herself? And if so, why had she tried to do this? Sadness? Illness? Heart break? Maybe even loneliness? Or had this been a tragic accident? A sleeping walking tragedy or a homicide? There were a million possibilities.

The nurse who had found him handed him a chart and a pen. Carlisle hesitated before finally tearing his eyes off of the dying woman he once knew. He scrawled his name and time of death and the chart was just as quickly taken away from him before he could change his mind. And then Esme Platt was rolled away from him. Her soft pulse drifting farther away from his exceptional hearing abilities and he knew with the head trauma, she wouldn't survive the night, much less the next few hours. Unless...

It would be drastic, he knew. And he realized that if she'd tried to kill herself, she may resent him as Edward did. His mind pulled him back to when he'd met her, to when he'd treated her broken leg. He'd been enchanted by Esme Platt and was sad to leave town the following week after meeting her. He would have loved her companionship; it wasn't very often he felt comfortable developing friendships with humans, knowing he'd have to leave them before they knew too much about him.

It was strangely exciting as he considered having her around. When he thought about seeing her beautiful face and hearing her laugh again, it eased the feelings of loneliness that ate at him every night when he got home.

And before Carlisle could stop himself, he was off to the morgue, still unsure, but his legs taking him there anyway. He couldn't let her give up. Whatever it was, he'd help her through it. She would always have him. And if she hated him for it, at least he wouldn't spend eternity wondering about Esme.

He ducked easily into a connecting hall as the nurses who wheeled her into the morgue, then emerged chattering away. They didn't notice him as they passed and Carlisle entered the morgue. She was easy to locate by the only heartbeat in the room. His shoes echoed in the chilled room as he stepped up to her and gently touched her cold cheek with his finger.

He stared down at her beautiful face for a moment and then faster than the human eye could catch, Carlisle had easily pulled Esme off the stretcher and set her gently on the floor. He then found a jane doe tagged in the far end of the room and switched them, attaching Esme's tag to her toe. Now no one would miss a body. He left the morgue and headed for the emergency desk and smiled handsomely at the receptionist who immediately flushed pink and smiled back.

"Could you do me a favour? My son Edward has parked in the back and he's to drive me home today. I don't want to keep him waiting so could you call up to the front and tell them to sign me out? I'm finished for the day."

The young receptionist nodded, eager to do the handsome doctor Cullen a favour. "Oh, of course, sir. Dr. Carlisle Cullen?" She picked up the phone and immediately began to punch in numbers. Carlisle thanked her, and turned back in the direction of the morgue. Making sure, no one was looking, in the blink of an eye, he'd slipped back into the morgue, collected Esme in his arms and was at the back door of the hospital.

*^*

Edward had read his thoughts before Carlisle had parked the car. He stood stock-still at the front door, staring at Carlisle with an unreadable expression on his handsome face. He carefully lifted Esme from the backseat of his car and shut the door. Carlisle was ignoring Edward's expression for the moment as he worried about her injuries complicating what he was about to do. She may not survive at all...

"Why Carlisle?"

Carlisle regarded Edward's confused expression and then explained. "I know her, Edward. I have to- I have to save her."

Edward followed him upstairs. "She jumped from a cliff?"

"We aren't sure. But she doesn't have much time with all her mortal injuries. Her lungs are filled with water, most of her bones are fractured, but our venom could save her."

"Are you sure she wants this?" Edward asked as he watched Carlisle set Esme down his bed with extreme care.

"I don't know, Edward. I just feel that this is right- to help her." Edward turned away, not wanting to watch what had happened to him. He flinched slightly as he heard the sound of Carlisle's teeth tearing the skin on Esme's neck.

*~*

It was like wildfire when the venom ripped through her veins. As it flowed through her system and purged into her heart, it gripped her in a torturous flame. Her body tensed as the heat grew more intense and the pain began.

She wasn't aware of anything else but the pain. Her wrists and legs struggled at invisible bindings that seemed to pin her body down against the soft surface she was lying on. The small part of her mind that was still conscious pleaded with God, begging for release and for mercy, but her prayers went unheard. She was in hell and burning for eternity.

*~*

The screaming he could drone out, but her thoughts he could not.

Edward let out a low moan, holding his head. Carlisle was suddenly beside him, calling his name. "Son," he kept saying. "Son, what it is?"

"I can't bear it," Edward said, clutching his temples. "She's _suffering_."

Carlisle turned his head toward the stairs, staring up and cringing as Esme let out another wretched cry of pain. "I know, but it won't last long. You were only out for a few days."

Edward shook his head. "I've been listening for hours, Carlisle. It's her human life she's suffering for. She's screaming inside too. I hear both and it's like living it with her."

Carlisle couldn't find the will to speak as Edward shuddered. "She's lost everyone, she's afraid... She's alone."

Carlisle wasn't sure he understood, but then again, he was sure only Edward could ever know. Edward could read minds, and he could not. However hearing that Esme was miserable because she was alone lit a small candle of hope in him; he understood this part of her suffering.

"I've got to get out of here," Edward bit out suddenly, getting roughly to his feet. "I need to feed anyway."

Carlisle watched him leave and then decided to go check on Esme. He was sure Edward was trying to forget his own blurred memories of his transformation, and felt sorry that perhaps some of his questions were answered by watching Esme. On top of having to hear Esme's thoughts, Carlisle couldn't imagine how frustrated he must feel.

He pushed open the door and found Esme's body rigid on the bed, but still on her back. Her face was contorted in agony and a solitary tear drop had run down her cheek. He could hear her heart slamming in her chest and noticed the way her veins in her arms seemed to strain and bulge. He sat next to her, tuning out her screams. He gently placed a cool hand on her cheek and caressed her lightly.

For a moment, her screaming ceased and she turned her face into his hand. Carlisle almost smiled, but he knew that her body was only naturally seeking a week to cool itself during the heat of the turning. Still, the gesture was... _nice_. He noted her bruises were healing, disappearing from her face and this pleased him. It was easier to re-learn her face when it wasn't covered in bruises.

Edward had said she felt alone, and Carlisle knew just how traumatizing this could be. He'd been alone far too long. He hoped that with him and Edward, she wouldn't feel alone anymore.

"Not too worry," he murmured to her, moving his hand to cool her other cheek, if only momentarily. She leaned into him again, pausing in her screams. "You don't have to be alone anymore, Esme." He stared at her hard as the screaming and sobs began again at full force. "You have me."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

She burned for almost three days. When it finally stopped, Esme felt... strange. She was afraid to move, afraid she'd suddenly _break_. Had she suffered enough for her sins? Had God finally given her release? After a few seconds of consideration, she lifted a finger, and then another, and then wiggled all her fingers on both hands, sighing in relief when she felt perfectly fine.

With her eyes closed, she suddenly became aware of several things at once. One, the smell of lilacs and lilies and something else sweet that she couldn't identify. Still curious as to what kind of heaven she'd open her eyes too, another image flashed before her eyes.

A handsome, blonde man who sat with her, touched her cheek and spoke to her. She couldn't remember what he'd said or how long she'd dreamed about him, but he was a comforting thought. He looked much like the doctor who'd treated her when she was sixteen. A guardian angel, perhaps?

She continued to lay there until she heard movements somewhere in the distance and she became unsure again. She heard footsteps and murmuring voices; trees and bushes moving in the wind; a newspaper shuffling. She felt uneasy and anxiety tapped at her desires to get up and open her eyes.

Curiosity eventually got the better of her and she opened her eyes, gasping at the lights and in her strange surroundings. No clouds of heaven and no haloed angels in white? No great golden gate or white lights?

She was in a room with blue walls and a white trim. Behind her was a wide window with a heavy black curtain over it. Opposite the door was a large wardrobe, atop of which sat a plant and a small stack of books. There was a dark rug on the floor and a small book shelf by the oak door.

_How strange,_ she thought.

As she looked around the room, another thing caught her attention- she could _see_ differently and much, much better. Things were much sharper, and when she focused on the rug, she could pick out individual fibres if she stared long and hard enough. The colours were more interesting and she found that even looking at the blue walls intrigued her.

There was a knock on the door and Esme's attention snapped up, but she remained lying on the bed.

The blonde man was here- the doctor, what was his name? Her guardian angel... Esme felt mesmerized as she watched him enter the room- a blonde god in a pair of beige pants and a red shirt. He smiled at her- a charming smile with a set of very white teeth. She inhaled sharply and was rewarded by his scent, which was vaguely familiar to her.

"You're awake," he praised, obviously pleased. He still remained a fair distance with her, and this she felt grateful for. She had no idea why she felt so anxious, but she had no idea where she was or what was happening. Heaven was nothing like she'd expected.

Esme sat up in a fluent motion and slid farther away from the bed. "Why did heaven put me in this room?" She asked in a wind-chime voice that sounded odd as her tongue moved around the words. She frowned at herself, wondering at her voice.

The blonde man looked confused for only a moment and then he shook his head. "I know this is a little disorientating for you, but you're safe and healthy. You've healed quicker than I expected." He seemed to be fighting a smile that tugged on his lips. "And you're alive, not in heaven."

Esme stared at him for a long time, confused. "Where am I?" She finally asked in her new voice, relaxing her defences on the bed. She stared down at the large bed, the comfortable duvet, the cotton sheets under it.

"My home," he told her automatically. "My name is Carlisle Cullen." He smiled again in a kind way.

Esme nodded. "I remember you. You're the doctor." Carlisle smiled again and Esme felt a wave of calm over her. "I don't understand," she added.

"What do you remember?" Carlisle prompted, sitting himself on the edge of her bed. Esme hesitated at this action but decided she didn't mind. Carlisle didn't make her nervous. She felt disorientated and anxious, yes, but he was not the cause.

Esme stared down at her feet, considering the question and shifting through her blurred memories. What did she remember? Charles. Her family. Carlisle. Thomas. A baby. The rush of freezing air. Nothingness. Fire. Everything was so distorted and unfocused.

"They brought you into the hospital," he began gently in a calm, controlled voice, watching her carefully for tension. "And you were so badly injured from the fall off the cliff. There was no other way to save you." Esme slowly brought her eyes up to Carlisle's perfect, beautiful face, feeling slightly entranced by him.

"I couldn't let you die," Carlisle continued firmly. "Not when I remembered you were so happy and beautiful and a bright young woman."

Esme felt slightly off-guard. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Carlisle's lips pulled into a small smile. "Very much so, Esme."

This pleased her, but she was growing more and more aware of a different sensation- one of being incredibly thirsty; burning the back of her throat.

"How did you save me?" She looked over her body and noticed her skin was unmarked and undamaged by the fall. "When did I jump?" A memory returned to her, much clearer than it had been before of her throwing herself off the cliff.

"You're different now because you've changed. I don't really care for the term, but..." he seemed to gather his courage. "I saved you by turning you immortal- into a vampire."

_Vampire_? Esme stared at him, knowing she'd heard him correctly, but still unsure of how to react. She considered how she felt physically, and decided she'd never felt better. Emotionally, it occurred to her that she felt free of that weight of grief she carried on her shoulders. She still felt sadness- but it was more of a blurred memory of her past.

"Are you angry with me?" His voice sounded sad and that upset her slightly. She wanted to move closer to him, to comfort him, and suddenly she _was_ next to him.

"That was fast," she murmured to herself, glancing where she'd moved from.

"You'll find a lot of things have changed," Carlisle said gently. He was watching her again with his golden eyes. "Esme, I truly hope you can forgive me, but I simply could not let you die. You are, of course, welcome to stay here with myself and my son Edward."

"Your son?"

Carlisle nodded. "Adopted, sort of speak. I saved him too, from Spanish influenza."

A million questions swam around her mind, but she wasn't sure which to ask first. She found herself looking into his eyes, feeling... something... she couldn't ever recall feeling. She suddenly felt extremely hesitant and unsure. And before she could make up her mind with what to say to Carlisle Cullen, he got easily to his feet.

"Come, you must be thirsty. There are a lot of things you need to learn."

Esme nodded, deciding she'd confront these strange feelings at some other point. She also wanted to remember her past and understand how she had come to be a vampire, though it was strange to think about. And being told that she was thirsty made her realize how bone-dry her mouth was and she touched her throat in discomfort.

Vampires existed? Had she fallen into a fairy tale or nightmare? Was she dreaming? Esme sincerely hoped it was neither; she felt _good_ about Carlisle Cullen. Very good. Like he was someone she could trust in this world. The man apparently worked miracles. He saved her when she was a young girl of sixteen and fell from a tree. And he saved her again when she fell from a cliff.

He glanced back at her, his expression unreadable but she felt his eyes burn into hers as she followed him from the bedroom and into the hallway. They passed a bathroom which had a large mirror in it and Esme froze, stunned at her reflection.

Carlisle halted too, but didn't say anything. He let her learn her new appearance in silence. As Esme stared at the beautiful, flawless brunette staring back at her, she touched her perfect caramel curls, her defined cheekbones, her unblemished satiny skin with wonder.

Surely this wasn't real? How could she commit suicide and wake up alive, in perfect condition as a vampire, in the house of a man she'd found attractive several years before? A man who found her beautiful and told her she could stay here?

"Esme?" Carlisle finally said softly, calling her from her wonderment.

Esme snapped to the present, slightly embarrassed at her narcissism. Her eyes fell on Carlisle's golden ones regarding her and she turned back to the mirror for a second to confirm with horror what she'd realized the difference between them was.

"Like blood," she whispered in the silence, horrified at her eye colour.

"It's not forever," Carlisle told her reassuringly, touching her arm. "Come on, you should meet Edward."

"Does he look like a demon too?" Esme asked miserably, allowing Carlisle to lead her away from the mirror. "This is great...Bram Stoker has written my life story," she grumbled.

Disclaimer/Honourable Mention: Bram Stoker's Dracula was released in 1897. If you haven't ever read it, I strongly recommend that you did. It's FANTASTIC! I studied it in one of my university classes and wrote a paper on it, hence the reason I've got the publication date by memory :P


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Esme quickly found life at the Cullen home to be easy to adapt to. After spending a few weeks with Edward and Carlisle, she didn't care much for the life she'd left behind. She could remember her story, but it felt like everything had happened years and years earlier, instead of the span of weeks. She still grieved for the loss of her baby son, but her new body could not cry.

Both Edward and Carlisle were a comfort to her by hearing their stories and learning from them. When she told them of her life with Charles, they both seemed saddened by what she had endured. If she was legally free of Charles, he could no longer hunt her. And more than that, even if he did manage to find her, she laughed at the idea of Charles facing three vampires.

Vampire. It was still strange, but Esme found that this life already felt more right than her first one. She walked about the Cullen home without fear, without restriction. She was her own person with rights and the ability to make her own decisions. The Cullen house was a decent size and she was given her own room and use of her own bathroom.

The current downside was that Carlisle had had to fake her death, so Edward and Carlisle were making arrangements to re-locate. Esme had felt terrible about this, but Edward had laughed and Carlisle shrugged with a smile.

"We move often, you'll find," Edward explained.

"Once you're no longer a new vampire, you can return to work, and surely you'll want to do something with yourself."

Esme couldn't disagree with this point. Aside from hunting, she essentially kept to the house, not wanting to be recognized in town, especially in light of the changes to her physical appearance. The blood-red eyes would certainly disturb anyone she met on the street.

Esme spent a lot of time reading in Carlisle's study; learning from the many books he had in his miniature library. She and Edward would spend time together as well, playing board games or taking walks in the forest. He was also teaching her how to play the piano, which Esme truly enjoyed.

One evening, Carlisle returned home from work to find Esme curled up on the sofa in his study, reading a book with an emerald green cover. She glanced up at him when he entered the room and she smiled at him in greeting.

"Enjoying your day?" Carlisle asked, hanging up his jacket.

"Yes," Esme replied. As she sat up straighter, the movement caused her long hair to tumble over her shoulders, framing her face.

Carlisle was slightly caught off-guard by her. She noticed his expression and closed the book, smiling curiously.

"What?"

Re-composing himself, Carlisle moved toward her, glancing at the book cover. "You are interested in philosophy?" He asked curiously. He took the book and sat beside her, quickly leafing through it. "I haven't read this in quite some time."

"It's alright. I was just curious," Esme said softly. As she remembered to breathe, she inhaled, smelling, or maybe rather tasting, Carlisle's scent. He smelled of soap, hospital, and something else nice that she couldn't put her finger on.

"You look beautiful, today," Carlisle told her suddenly, his voice catching.

If she could have blushed, she would have. Esme gently tugged on a lock of hair and smiled shyly. "Thank you."

They looked at each other for a long moment, before Carlisle, ever so gently, raised his fingers to her cheek and stroked the soft skin there. The touch was electric and her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers slid across to brush her hair from her face.

She opened her eyes again when his hand dropped, disappointing her slightly. He was very close now. Esme inhaled again, pleased by the scents that met her. She felt her body urging her to close the distance and kiss him, but she had never been forward with men. In fact, she'd never felt such a strong desire toward anyone before.

And then he smiled at her, but it was a troubled smile and he moved away from her. Esme could have crumbled to the floor, but she hoped her face didn't betray her as he handed her the book back.

"I need to go freshen up," Carlisle said conversationally. "The smell of hospital is distracting."

He left, leaving Esme staring after him, wondering what had just occurred. After a few moments, she stood and moved into the main room where she found Edward pouring over several books written in a language she could not either recognize or read. She frowned over his shoulder and attempted to sound out some of the words.

"It's Latin," Edward explained, looking up from his studies. He read the confusion in her mind and smiled slightly. "We have a lot of time on our hands... I enjoy reading and learning."

Esme nodded. "I should probably figure out something I can do until I can return to work. How long will that be?"

Edward shrugged as Esme moved easily and quickly, taking a seat on the couch with him. "Carlisle thinks a year or so. What did you like to do before the change?"

"I've always wanted to teach and... I was going to be a mother, so I spent a lot of time preparing for that," Esme said softly, remembering to the baby boy she'd lost. It upset her that she could barely remember him now. How was it possible to forget his little face so quickly?

"Your human memories fade quickly," Edward answered her thought aloud. "You won't have to suffer for your troubles when you were human for much longer."

Edward suddenly had papers in his hands and he passed them to Esme. "Divorce papers..." he said quietly. "You might need them one day if people discover you survived that fall from the cliff."

Esme took them gratefully. "Thank you," she told Edward sincerely, thrown off-guard that he'd gone ahead and gotten these for her.

Edward smiled slightly. "Not a problem. I can see your interests are elsewhere."

Before Esme could ask what he meant, she heard Carlisle coming. Edward laughed so softly that she barely heard it.

"You never did tell us that story," Edward said, breaking into her thoughts. Esme turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing out of irritation.

"Which story?" Carlisle asked, appearing suddenly on the couch.

Esme tore her eyes from Edward, worrying over how much Edward had heard in her mind. "The one where you met Carlisle," Edward explained with a smile.

"It's silly. I fell from a tree," Esme replied, mildly embarrassed. Edward chuckled to her right, but Esme ignored him.

"Minor fracture to the femur and a sprained ankle," Carlisle recited perfectly, smiling slightly.

Esme was mildly surprised. "You remember?"

"Vampire," Carlisle replied dryly, still smiling. Edward made a noise of amusement and got gracefully to his feet, muttering something about a headache and wanting to hunt, leaving Carlisle and Esme in the room alone.

"I never forgot the handsome doctor," Esme blurted nervously.

Carlisle opened his mouth to speak when a harsh knocked sounded at the door. Edward had re-appeared and growled, his eyes black as he stared seemingly through the walls toward the front door. He shot across the room to Esme's side, tugging her away, out of sight and into the kitchen. He pressed a finger to her lips, looking very serious.

"Who is it?" Esme demanded in an angry whisper. When he didn't answer her, she pleaded with him. "Edward, please, what it is?"

Carlisle was moving toward the door silently; Esme could hear his even footsteps.

Edward let out a long, even angry breath of air. "Your husband, it seems."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Esme suddenly felt nauseous as Edward's strong, firm grip held her to the floor. He seemed even more worried than she, which was unbelievable considering the circumstances. How had he found her? Why was he here? Was he going to try and take her home? Would he try to kill her?

"We won't let him take you," Edward murmured quietly, his voice harsh and icy. Esme stared at him, looking frightened but Edward seemed to be listening to something else- probably Charles' thoughts.

Suddenly, it dawned on Esme that _of course_ Charles couldn't take her. She was a vampire now! She didn't need to be afraid anymore. It was an empowering idea; even if Charles did manage to get her out of here somehow, he couldn't keep a vampire in his home for very long. She was much, much stronger than any human.

Edward gave a soft groan, closing his eyes. "No, Esme, it's not that simple. For one, he's furious. He knows you're here. If he sees you... sees your red eyes... it'll be bad."

"Good evening," Carlisle's voice sounded pleasantly from the other room. There wasn't a hint of anxiety in his voice and Esme let out a sigh of relief at Carlisle's calm.

"Where is she?" Charles sounded murderous, and in spite of her new-found strength and speed, Esme felt the familiar twinge of fear. She wanted to crumble to the floor and hide from the world.

"Excuse me?" Carlisle asked, his tone etched with something Esme had never heard before, and it sounded very unlike him.

Charles wasn't giving up. "You know _who_. At first I was informed she was dead, but then I heard... You're keeping my wife hostage in there, and I want her back!"

"I don't have your wife. I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about, so kindly remove yourself from my property."

"LIAR!"

Esme hung her head, biting her lip. Edward's grip tightened on her. Why was he holding her here so forcefully? Didn't he realize she wouldn't go willingly? Edward was tugging her backwards again. She glanced at him worriedly but his expression scared her too.

"Leave. Now." Carlisle told Charles in a low but dangerous voice.

"Esme!" Charles yelled. "I know you're in there! Come out this instant!"

A faint tinny scent had reached her and Esme felt her body go rigid. Her throat started to burn and Edward yanked her back to the wall and stood in front of her, staring at her with dark eyes, his grip like steel on her arms. "Don't- move." Edward told her firmly.

The smell was getting stronger, burning, making Esme thirsty. She'd never tasted human blood before, nor did she truly want to, but her body wanted to as it cramped. Esme closed her eyes, trying to hold onto the bit of sanity she had within her.

"Esme," Edward whispered coldly. "Don't. You can't kill him. They'll kill you... steak you. You'll risk the lives of me and Carlisle. Is that what you want? Think of what it'll mean. You're not a murderer."

"ESME!" Charles' shriek of indignant fury woke Esme from her interest in the scent in the air.

"Leave at once!" Carlisle was telling him loudly now. "Leave or-" And then there was running that broke over Carlisle's voice. Edward began pulling at her, but Esme wasn't sure she could leave. She wanted the scent to come closer. Her eyes flew open, curious. She peered around Edward, inhaling deeply.

"Charles!" Carlisle was yelling. Fast footsteps made the scent grow stronger again.

Edward pulled hard and managed to drag Esme back several feet again toward the door. "Esme, please. _Think_. Focus. Think of Carlisle... you _know_ what he would think."

Furious, angry, thirsty and burning, Esme stumbled backwards as the light burst through the urge to hunt Charles. She did not want to hurt the people who had saved her. But they didn't reach the back door in time. Edward had thrown it open with one hand clutching Esme's forearm when Charles rounded the corner and spotted his wife, shouting her name.

The scent filled her nose and lungs and overwhelmed her, but Edward's grip on her arm kept her sane enough not to move. She kept her head and eyes down and held her breath, but she feared what would happen if he got any closer...

"There you are!" Charles growled furiously. "I've found you! Running from your husband, drugging me, turning family against me... I've faced enough shame on your foolish hands!"

"Get out of our house!" Edward told Charles in a cold voice. "She's not going anywhere."

"Take your hands off my wife." Charles stormed forward but Edward was in front of Esme already, arms out protectively.

"I'm not going with you!" Esme told the floor in a miserable but firm voice.

"How _dare _you!" Charles moved closer, but then froze, midstep. Esme's sharp senses urged her to look at Charles who stood mere feet from her and Edward. He was staring at her, noticing the changes in his wife.

He opened his mouth to say something when Carlisle moved to stand beside Edward protectively. "You will leave my home now. Esme has made it clear she doesn't wish to leave with you."

Charles was looking around the room, looking flustered, furious and indignant all at once. He seemed to regain some of his anger, but he still stared at Esme. "I will _not_ leave. I... I haven't the idea what you've _done_ to her... her skin, her hair... her face..." a sharp intake of air told Esme he'd noticed the most obvious change. "Her... eyes..." Horror was passing over his face. His lips moved but no sound came out, and he reached up and grabbed the golden cross that he wore every day around his neck.

"But..." he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I'm not leaving with you, you _monster_!"

"Leave." Edward bit out through clenched teeth. "Now." At the moment, Edward looked like a dangerous predator who was moments away from ripping Charles' throat open.

Charles moved fast. Unfortunately his mortal speed was nothing to that of Edward and Carlisle who each grabbed an arm and stopped him from getting close to Esme. Still, he pushed close enough that Esme inhumanly jumped back like a cat against the doorframe and a hiss filled the room. Her hair framed her face, her arms out like claws as her nails dug into the walls like steel, holding herself there.

That did it. Charles backed up, his face purpling. "I shall return with the police if this it how it is to be!" The threat hung humorously in the air. The three vampires watched Charles turn on his heel and hurry from the house. When the door slammed, Carlisle and Edward let out a sigh of relief.

Esme gave a soft cry and slid to the floor to sit and calm herself.

"What now, Carlisle?" Edward asked tersely. Carlisle tore his eyes from the place where Charles had been and looked weary.

"We shall handle it as we always have. If all else fails, we'll leave."

Edward nodded. He touched Esme's shoulder sympathetically and then walked out the open back door, presumably to hunt. Edward was strong, but being in such close proximity to humans still took a lot out of him. When he had left, Carlisle turned to Esme, his golden eyes searching her expression worriedly.

He bent down to her level and tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. "Are you all right?" He asked quietly.

Esme nodded and he helped her to her feet. Carlisle moved closer and wrapped his arms around her and Esme turned into him, pressing her face into his chest, inhaling deeply. The scent of Carlisle filled her and wiped her adrenaline away, leaving her heart fluttering for other reasons. It warmed her insides and eased her guilt a little bit.

"Everything will be fine. We won't let him take you against your will."

"I know," Esme admitted softly against his sweater. "I can't believe how... _powerful_ it feels. I hissed like a rabid animal..." she broke off miserably and to her surprise, Carlisle chuckled.

"Just a natural reaction you'll learn to control better with time. I'm very proud of you for holding your sanity." His fingers began rubbing her back soothingly, and it distracted Esme's guilt-ridden thoughts once more.

Esme hesitated and then nodded. She inhaled again, pleased by the flutter she felt in her stomach and in her chest.

"What if he comes back with the police?"

"Then you call tell the police that you don't want to go. They can't make you leave."

Esme wasn't so sure it would be this simple, but her worries vanished when she felt his lips press gently to her forehead. "You called _him_ the monster," he mused softly, breaking the tension between them.

"He was." Esme pulled back slightly to look at him seriously.

"And I am not?" The question sounded ridiculous. Carlisle, a monster? Though something in his eyes told Esme that some part of him actually believed this.

Esme smiled sadly now, shaking her head. "No... You could never hurt me as he has."

His arms tightened protectively around her. "We won't let him take you away. I couldn't bear it if he did."

She looked up at him and the way he was looking at her made her mind slide blank of Charles and all the anxiety her husband sparked in her. His hand slid up from her back and gently to the nape of her neck. Her skin tingled where he touched and she felt frozen as his thumb stroked her jaw, his eyes intense.

He lowered his impossibly beautiful face to hers and finally, at last, he kissed her. Come hell or high water, she'd never leave a vampire for a monster of a human like Charles. It didn't last long, but as soon as his lips met hers she felt as if she'd been shocked with emotion. She'd been kissed before, but never had it felt like this.

He pulled back slowly, his eyes a molten gold colour and his face still very close to hers. She wished he'd kiss her again. How long had it been since she'd felt _wanted_ by a man?

"I'm sorry if..." he hesitated and then said gently, "if I was out of line."

Esme managed to swallow the lump in her head and shook her head. "Out of line? No." Her new wind chime of a voice squeaked as it came out in a quick slur of perfect pronunciation.

"Good." His fingers toyed with her hair for a moment. "The second I opened the door I wanted to throw him across the yard. I don't like how he looks at you."

Esme felt confused. "Charles doesn't look at me like he loves me. I'm not sure he ever has."

"No, but he does notice how you've changed. I don't need Edward's abilities to know his thoughts when his eyes rake you like that. It's _wrong_. He sees your beauty amplified, Esme. You've always been beautiful."

The jealousy or protectiveness was endearing, but Esme tried not to smile as she slid back into his embrace and rested her head against his chest. It felt as if she fit there, and it felt even nicer when his arms slid around her to hold her there. Yes, feeling wanted was definitely something she had missed.

"I know before you were turned you struggled a lot. That much was certain when they brought you into the hospital... but I hope you'll find happiness here. Or at least whatever it was that you were missing." He gently eased her back enough so that he could look at her. His eyes burned into hers in a way that made her feel like she would be blushing if she could.

"I won't rush you... you have a lot to get used to. We've got all of eternity to worry about the details."

Esme nodded, unsure of what to say. She'd never had someone who wanted to protect her like this. She'd never had anyone stand up to Charles or even believe the cruel things he'd done to her. It was strange to think that all her life she'd never truly lived until now. Edward's attitude seemed to imply she should feel miserable about being immortal and a vampire, but she didn't feel that way at all. She felt something different but wasn't sure what it was. Relief? Peace? Identity? She wasn't sure. Carlisle was only a piece of the puzzle, and even though she trusted every word he said, it was still hard to fully accept that he _wanted _her around.

Carlisle wanted her to stay, to be happy. He wanted her to do what she wanted.

Charles had wanted her to wait on him hand and foot. Charles wanted her to be subdued, obedient, beautiful, and the perfect wife. He expected her to serve him his dinner and produce a male heir...

Her hands grazed her perfectly flat stomach and she felt a twinge of guilt for her baby. And now she'd never be a mother to anyone, and this was the trade.

She was falling in love with Carlisle Cullen easily, and she didn't want to go back to her old life.

Looking back up into his face, she noticed he was watching her carefully, trying to read her for regrets or doubt. Shaking herself, she knew that she'd have to take the good with the bad. Life wasn't perfect. And she truly believed whatever happened was for a reason. If she'd stayed human, if she still had her baby, she'd spend the rest of her life on the run from Charles. If her baby had lived, he would live his whole life under his tyranny as well. Surely what had happened was for the best?

Carlisle was playing with her hair and she relaxed back into his embrace and just allowed herself to lean against him and feel his arms around her.

_No,_ she thought confidently. _I have no regrets here_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Note- Edited May 17/10_

The next three days made her forget about the sadness she felt at the few mortal things she'd be giving up- being around Carlisle made sure of it. It was strange, almost surreal to have him come home to her and show so much interest in her. He spent all of his free time with her, talking with her, answering every question under the sun about this way of life. When they weren't talking about this or spending time with Edward, he seemed dedicated to getting to know her.

Every time his fingers brushed her skin the touch burned her sensitive skin, and the few times he'd kiss her in a day she felt consumed by the feelings he stirred in her. It was hard to believe that only a short while ago she was living with a man who kept her merely as his maid, a play toy, a servant, and a piece of arm candy.

Charles.

That was a problem, and Esme knew that beneath Carlisle and Edward's calm, they were worried too. It hadn't taken long to figure out _why _this was such a problem. Esme Platt, according to the world, was dead. According to the hospital morgue records, she was gone, and Charles was legally widowed. However, if he did involve the authorities, things would be reversed and questions would be asked. After all, there were nurses who saw her and how badly injured she was. She knew people would begin to speculate on how odd the Cullens were and how on earth Esme could have survived her injuries.

When Esme confronted Edward and Carlisle about this, they glanced at each other in defeat of trying to spare her the truth.

"Why don't we just leave then? Before he comes back?" Esme asked nervously, wringing her hands as she sat on the sofa.

Edward answered, pausing his piano-playing. "Because it'll give the police a reason to think we _did_ kidnap you. They'll come after us and we can't afford that. We will leave, but we have to let them see us first so they don't think we're running away when people start to talk."

Esme grimaced at the idea of what people would be talking about. It was bad enough to hear Edward joke about how much attention Carlisle had attracted from women just by working at the hospital. "So what do we do then?"

"We wait. Carlisle's given his two-weeks notice at the hospital. We'll leave as soon as the police hear that you want to stay with us."

Esme was still confused. "But they'll know I'm alive. Isn't that bad?"

Edward nodded, his face tense. "Yes, but it's unavoidable. Besides, the world can't think you're dead forever, Esme. You'll soon get bored of being cooped up in the house. We'll have to go and file you for divorce at town hall as well, so you'll legally be freed of Charles."

Esme frowned at him since she knew he was reading her thoughts and he was dodging answer the question she was asking.

Before she could confront Edward on this, Carlisle was there. "Try not to worry," Carlisle told her soothingly. His hand captured hers and he squeezed it gently, his thumb gently brushing hers. "We'll take care of things."

"I hate being such a bother," Esme said miserably.

Carlisle smiled grimly. "When you've lived as long as I have, you'll see that this kind of problem isn't a new one. And soon, we'd have to move anyway."

_11:36 pm_

Esme glanced at the grandfather clock against the wall as she slowly descended the stairs in the living room. Her face was set in a frown as she tried to focus on the out-of-focus noises she'd been hearing for the past fifteen minutes. She was home alone for the time being while Edward and Carlisle hunted, and Esme had been immersed in a book when she started hearing whoever it was, figuring some teenagers were venturing the woods. Still, something about it was bothering her.

She padded downstairs silently, trying to figure out where she could best hear the noise, but it filled her ears everywhere she went, not getting any louder or quieter. Several minutes passed as she searched the house for a good spot, curious as to who was near the property line and making such noise at this hour. It wasn't like she needed sleep, but it was infuriating nonetheless. And more than that, Charles' sudden appearance had made her paranoid.

Suddenly the noise faded and the chattering stopped. Esme let out a sigh of relief and turned back to the stairs, satisfied that whoever it was must be leaving.

The sound of glass shattering made Esme let out a surprised scream as the large kitchen windows were shattered into a million pieces and the noise of intruders filled the house. Esme stood frozen in shock, the smell of human blood filling her lungs.

It tempted her to go toward the clearly angry mob who were pulling themselves into the house, kicking shards of glass aside as they went. It wasn't their pitch-forks, long wooden stakes, cloves of garlic or torches that startled her into consciousness but the man who led the mob- Charles.

They rounded the corner and for a moment, there was an awkward silence as they faced Esme. The torches flickered under the kitchen lights, and men shuffled their boots, getting into position as they held their weapons high into the air.

"Esme," Charles breathed out, his voice edged with fury and hatred. He glowered at her, his face pallid and etched with something else, but she couldn't identify it.

"Charles...." she responded uneasily, feeling like a caged animal as the mob formed a semi-circle behind Charles. Her feet stayed planted to the floor as she eyed the mob and Charles cautiously.

"Well?" A burly man shouted angrily. "What are you waiting for? Strike before the creature gets us!"

Charles shook himself out his shock, but his expression seemed a little less murderous. It was as if he had a heart after all underneath all the ice in his chest. How could he kill his wife? She was so beautiful now- so flawless... she was alluring, perfect.

"Charles, please, no..." Esme said pleadingly, barely able to speak the words as they rushed from her mouth. She could hear about thirty human hearts pounding at once, and it was maddening. It was too much and she feared that she would snap and have to face Carlisle's disappointment. They weren't here to stop her now.

"It's only right," Charles bit out by way of apology. He gripped the large stake he held in his hand, his heart beginning to accelerate. The sound of the blood pumping in his chest made Esme jump.

She ran, terrified. She made it upstairs before they could reach the staircase and she threw open the door to Edward's room and locked it behind her. She tore the balcony doors open and flung herself to the grass below, landing gracefully on her feet like a cat.

_Edward, Edward, please be listening!_ She pleaded, screaming out to him in her mind. _Come back, please. I need help!_ _Charles is here!_

Esme ran around to the side of the house and froze when five men were approaching, all armed with stakes. She turned to leave but her feet wouldn't leave the ground. In her head she was screaming, but she couldn't tear her eyes off the men or run from the pounding of their pulses. She was hungry; she hadn't fed in a day.

She was fighting a losing battle, tilting her head to the side with wild eyes, her lip pulling back over her teeth as she crouched slightly. Esme inhaled deeply and was rewarded with the intoxicating smell, but snarled when one of them raised the stake and called out Charles's name. His name gave her some sanity again and she ran past them in a blur toward the forest. She knew that succumbing to her desires to attack would not only mean losing Carlisle, but it meant that Charles would win.

Her new-found speed brought her halfway through the forest and she jumped up the mossy trunk and climbed high up and perched herself in the branches. She could hear the mob's angry pursuit as they were shouting furiously, calling in unison for the death of the vampire.

"Don't breathe," she told herself quietly. She refused to die at the hands of Charles. If she wasn't a newborn, she could more to defend herself, but her carnal instincts demanded that she stay.

The mob began dispersing into the forest, torches held aloft. Esme remained frozen as she pressed herself against the tree trunk, turning her nose to breathe in the smell of the bark and therefore keep her mind. A large group was right below her but she remained unseen and they passed her.

Esme found herself leaning out to the smell as they passed, inhaling deeply.

The sound of a gunshot ricocheted through the forest and Esme didn't need to look far off before spotting Charles with a shot gun in one hand and a stake at his feet. He aimed the gun again and fired. It was a great relief to her that she was bullet-proof and when she easily dodged the bullet. Unrelenting, he came closer, still aiming his gun.

"Come down!" He screamed at her. "Face me! Let me end the curse for you!" _Was he being helpful for once?_

Esme remained frozen in the tree until he raised the gun again and she was forced to jump, landing easily on the ground with grace. As she raised herself back up, she knew it was over. Charles was moving towards her too quickly for her to cling to her mind. He tossed the gun aside and grabbed his stake.

"What have they done to you, Esme?" He asked, the anger turning all-to-suddenly to disbelief. "You're... beautiful, perfect... but they've turned you into a terrible creature. I knew the moment I saw your eyes..."

He was mere feet away and Esme felt rigid, her mouth burning to tear open his carotid. It would be easy... and so rewarding. His shaking hand brushed through her soft locks of hair and Esme shuddered in disgust at his touch.

"You could control yourself..." he breathed, plotting, still staring at her. "It's insanity... but I should take advantage of such beauty in a wife before I end things."

Esme shuddered in repulsion again. "You won't touch me!"

Charles smirked and made a grab for her hair to pull her closer but Esme hissed like an angry cat, snapping. Her fingers wrung around his neck and she shoved him backwards against a tree, teeth barred.

Charles gave a terrified gasp of air, his face turning blue as he suffocated under her hold. A snarl ripped from her throat but then a voice called out to her the moment her teeth found the skin on his throat. She could taste the salt of his sweat and feel the pulse of his carotid under the press of her sharp teeth. Her body went rigid and she was about to rip open the flesh when-

"Esme!" Her whole body jolted in shock at the sound of the voice and she lifted her teeth to rest on the thumping flesh, relieving the pressure she'd been placing on it. _Don't bite_, she pleaded with herself.

A hand landed on her shoulder roughly, making her jump. Carlisle's face was in hers and he gently rested his hands on her cheeks. His thumbs lightly stroked her cheeks, making her mind reel. Carlisle was here.

"Esme, think. You do not have to be consumed by this. You can be stronger than your desires. Just let him go."

Her grip slackened almost immediately and reason burst through her carnal instincts to drink the blood of the man she held. She refused to be this person, newborn vampire or not. She didn't want to hurt other people, even if they were Charles. Her eyes moved from Charles's face and she dropped him like she'd been burnt by the touch. He fell to the forest floor with a sharp, shaking gasp of air but did not stand up.

Esme closed her eyes. "I... I couldn't..." Carlisle gently eased her away from her husband with one arm around her. Edward was there for moment, nodding at Carlisle to see that he had the situation under control, and then raced past them into the house.

Carlisle pressed a kiss to her forehead and quickly bent to check Charles. "You didn't break the skin," he commented, more to himself, in a tone of mild surprise. He stood and took both of her hands into his.

"Come, let's leave before he regains consciousness." They ran from the spot without looking back, darting impossibly fast past the trees and tangles of shrubs until they reached a point a mile from where the mob was hunting. Carlisle took a moment to listen and make sure they'd be safe while Esme slumped to sit on a rock, hugging herself.

"Carlisle, I'm so sorry," Esme told him in a whisper, staring at her feet.

Carlisle turned back to her and knelt at her feet. He gently tilted her chin up to look at him and offered her a small smile. "It isn't your fault. You're new, Esme. You haven't yet learned the control that Edward and I have. You can't blame yourself. I don't blame you, at all."

Esme swallowed the lump in her throat, unsure of what to say. She felt terrible, partly for hurting Charles, but mostly for nearly disappointing Carlisle. His disappointment would be far worse than any punishment. She couldn't imagine trying to live on her own, shunned from his life. She'd just found him, how could she have been so stupid as to lose him already when living with Carlisle had made her feel _whole_.

"Esme?" His voice called her from her thoughts and she looked up at him again, startled by the warmth and intensity of his gaze. His golden eyes burned into hers as he rested his hands around her waist.

"What's wrong? I hate to see you like this. No lasting harm was done to Charles, Esme. Just an abrasion... a small scratch." He hesitated, his face darkening. "And for all the pain he's ever caused you, he deserves far worse."

Esme hesitated. What could she say to this man? He'd saved her life, given her a home, and a new family. He'd given her another reason to live. Moreover, the way he made her feel gave her something to believe in.

"I'm sorry for letting it get the better of me," she told him softly. "I'll..." she paused, feeling positively sick at the idea of such a fate as what she was considering. "I'll understand if I've broken your rule and you want me to leave."

"Leave?" He repeated back, his beautiful face lined with shock. Esme nodded miserably and then he gave a short, dark laugh and brushed her hair behind her ear, shaking his head before he leaned in and kissed her deeply.

Taken a bit by surprised at the intensity of this kiss, she finally remembered to kiss him back after a moment or two. When he pulled back, he was smiling wryly.

"Esme... I've waited almost two-hundred and sixty years to find someone like you, you silly, beautiful girl. You're doing so wonderfully with your new changes, and soon you'll find your newborn instincts will fade. But until then, you cannot blame yourself, and I would never abandon you like that. I care too deeply about you."

"You do?" She asked in a small voice.

He nodded, kissing her again, still smiling.

She felt warmed by this declaration and his lips pressed to her forehead and he took her hand as he said, "I think I can make you happy, if you gave me that chance?"

Esme found herself smiling at him and took her hand back to hug him.

"I wanted to ask you, though I know it's been a rather hectic night, and it's fast. I walked away from you ten years ago, and if I had known that the connection I felt to you then would be worth more than my life then I wouldn't have left you to be exposed to a man like Charles Evanson. I'll never hurt you and I'd spent eternity to try and make you happy if you ma-"

"Carlisle." Edward was there, interrupting him. Esme was frozen in shock at what she was sure Carlisle had been trying to do, but the moment was broken by Edward's arrival with several suitcases.

"They've set the house on fire," the younger vampire said tersely. "We need to leave Ashland. Even if we go back, they'll attempt to kill us before we deny it."

"Alright." He stood, pulling Esme with him and clasping her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers.

"Where are we going?" Esme asked wearily, posing the question to either of them. She felt depressed at the idea of running again.

Edward shrugged and Carlisle laughed with dry, grim humour as he shook his head. "Anywhere where the vampire myth is just that- a myth. Far from Ashland."

Esme picked up her share of suitcases and Carlisle dropped her hand to pick up his own. She wondered briefly over which of them had packed up bare necessities for them to live. Carlisle caught her eye and the last of her anxiety washed away. She'd wait out the rest of her newborn days, but she'd never come so close to disappointing Carlisle ever again.

If he _did _want to marry her one day, she'd say yes, she was sure of it. Neither mortality or forever had any pull without him, or Edward. The details could unravel themselves, and nothing else mattered. Life could be a tragedy, but living it at a different angle seemed to make all the difference for her.

They started to walk away, as they couldn't afford to run at inhuman speed until they were in better covering. Edward fell into step beside Esme who held a suitcase in one hand and still held Carlisle's hand in the other.

"Did you ever think that jumping off of a cliff would lead to being chased by an angry mob whose objective is to plunge a stake into your chest like some poorly written vampire story?" He asked with a sad, teasing grin.

Carlisle frowned at Edward's joke, but Esme laughed. "No, I didn't. It's an interesting turn of events; attempted suicide to immortal life."

"Life in a gothic novel," Carlisle interjected in dark humour.

Edward grinned crookedly and rested his hand on Esme's shoulder. "The tide has changed, Esme. Those waves are no match for you now."

"Poor joke, Edward." Carlisle again looked displeased, but Esme didn't mind. It was nice to belong somewhere.

THE END.

Thanks to my editor for helping me clean it up!

Hope you enjoyed it!

--Disclaimer: Twilight characters and plot history

SP


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